


Time of Our Lives

by orphan_account



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin used to be married. It's not something he makes a fuss over, certainly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time of Our Lives

Martin used to be married. 

It's not something he makes a fuss over, it's certainly not something he'd ever want Douglas to find out about, and he's fairly certain that Carolyn neither knows nor cares. 

It wasn't a great tragic love story – not even close. True tragedy would imply that there had been some great love or even affection to begin with. But in truth, it was a story just as old as love won and lost. 

Jessica was Martin's first girlfriend. In truth, Martin couldn't believe his luck. She was (still is, he supposes) beautiful – glossy brown hair, clear brown eyes, gorgeous skin, a sweet smile and, well, just… _perfect_. She was nice to him, too, and that was the part that made Martin feel like the luckiest person on the planet. They would sit together at the lunch hour, do their homework together – she even let him copy once or twice – and after school, they would sit together in the field that sloped down to the railroad, and she would let Martin kiss her.

Kissing led to other things, and Jessica was Martin's first, too. Their very first time was in Martin's dad's van, after a party where Martin was a little drunk, but so was Jessica and everyone else, and so nobody noticed when they slipped out early and snuck into Mr Crieff's van. 

It wasn't a rousing success, but first times rarely are. Jessica had insisted that Martin wear a Durex and that was fine with Martin – he was going to go to Oxford Aviation Academy, or somewhere just as good, become a pilot and marry Jessica. They'd have two children, live in Surrey, Jessica would become a primary school teacher, and life would be _perfect_.

The next year, he and Jessica were still together, and the rejections from the flying schools began to roll in. 

"It's all right," Jessica told him. "You'll find the right one. We're together."

After they left school, Martin took a job as a dishwasher and Jessica started working on her teacher certification. They both still lived with their parents, met on the weekends, slunk away to have sex when they could, and Martin dreamed of flying. 

The next year, the next round of rejections rolled in.

Jessica held Martin as he sat on his bed (still with airplanes on the sheets) in his bedroom (still decorated with mobiles of airplanes, models, and scale drawings of aircraft) and sobbed. It was just so bloody _unfair_. They had dreams, and Martin knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was destined to become a pilot. 

Martin didn't resist as Jessica pulled him to her, shucked off his jumper, slid her hands down his stomach. He didn't resist as she kissed him, caressed him. He clung to her – the only perfect thing in his life – and he murmured in her ear. 

"Please," he whispered. "I want to feel you."

"Martin… we shouldn't… it's too dangerous."

"Jessica, please. Just the once."

"Well, okay, it should be safe, anyway."

The packet of Durex lay on the nightstand. 

A month later, Martin was working his shift washing dishes when Jessica barged into the kitchen. 

"We need to talk," she announced.

"G'wan," chef said to Martin with a wink. Martin frowned. The look on Jessica's face didn't really look like what she wanted to talk about was all that good.

"I'm fucking pregnant," she said, taking a drag on the cigarette that Martin lit for her. 

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm pregnant."

Martin stared at the dingy alley that stunk of rotting food and urine. 

"How? Why? But why? How?"

"In the usual way, come _on_ Martin, don't be stupid."

"But we were careful! We always…"

"Except for once, remember? Just once. I _told_ you…"

"But you said it would be okay!"

"Yeah, well, it's not."

"But… are you going to keep it?"

"I don't know, Martin, it's our kid, innit?"

"But… your course…"

"I'm almost done. I could still have it and work. My mum could take care of it."

"So you want to keep it?"

"I guess. Unless you don't want me to…"

"No, I… I don't know, I just… Jessica, will you marry me?"

"What?" Jessica burst out laughing. 

"Well, I'm the, erm, father… right?"

"You git! Who else do you think?"

"No! Right. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. No, I mean, just… erm. My dad's going to be really mad if I don't, and… I want to be sure I do… well… and I love you, Jessica, of course."

"Oh, Martin." Jessica sighed and smiled at him. 

Both Jessica and Martin's fathers were furious with him. Jessica's dad especially. Their mums were guardedly enthusiastic about the baby and the upcoming wedding, and Simon and Caitlyn both tried to offer support to their little brother – mostly in the form of well intentioned advice.

Martin took a second job mopping up at the twenty-four hour Tescos.

Three weeks later, Jessica called Martin to tell him it was a false alarm. 

"How?" Martin asked.

"The usual way. My period came."

"But you were so sure!"

"I know. Mum made me go to the doctor and it really was just a false alarm."

"So now what do we do?" Martin stared at the floor, pressing the phone to his ear until it hurt.

"I dunno. Mum's booked the hall. And the catering."

"Already?"

"She has a friend, doesn't she?"

"So do you…"

"What do you mean, _do you_? Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do… I just… I want to marry you. Do you still want to marry me?"

There was a long silence. 

"Yeah," Jessica finally said. "I do. We'll get married and I'll become a teacher and… and…"

"Yeah," Martin agreed. "It'll be _perfect_."

After a year, though, things weren't perfect. Jessica finished her course and got a job at the local comprehensive. The kids were tough, and it took a lot out of her to cope every day with them. Martin worked as a dishwasher and mopped up at the twenty four hour Tescos, saving and scrimping so that he could get his lessons, take his tests, get more lessons, retake his tests, and still manage to chip in part of the rent.

In truth, it was Jessica who supported them. 

As the year went on, though, fights became more frequent. The tiny room in the shared house that had once seemed cozy and a symbol of how they'd get through this together turned cramped and dirty. Too little space, too little money, not enough food, not enough heat. 

The third time Martin failed his instrument rating, Jessica came home from school to find him curled up in bed, crying softly.

"Oh, Martin," she said. "Not again."

Martin didn’t reply.

"Look," she said, sitting down next to him. "Maybe it's time you thought about doing something else. Maybe you're just not meant to be a pilot. Maybe this is the universe's way of telling you that…"

"That what?" Martin demanded, whirling to face her. "That I'm a failure? That the _only_ thing I want is the one thing I can't have?"

"Martin…"

"All this time, all the money I've saved and spent? If I don't pass this, Jessica, you don't understand, this is the _only_ thing that means anything to me. The only thing I've ever really wanted."

"Oh. I see."

"No, Jessica, I didn't mean it like that. I… I love you." Martin could have recited this argument in his sleep. Every time he failed another test, every time he signed up for _another_ class, every time he tried, every time a bill came past due, they had this argument. 

"So you say, Martin, but do you really? I mean, really love me more than flying?"

"Jessica, I married you – when we thought you might be…"

"Yes, you did the honorable thing. Well done, you. Always ready to try and do the 'right thing'. And then what? Then we stay here? In this grotty bedsit, until something better comes along? Until there's no money left? Until we have to move in with our parents? Or take another loan from Simon or Caitlyn? When, Martin? When is it going to be enough?"

Jessica moved out the next week – moved back in with her mum and dad. 

Eighteen months after their hastily planned wedding, Martin and Jessica divorced. Jessica moved to Swindon and found another school and Martin moved to Fitton to live in the only place he could afford – the shared house in Parkside Terrace. There, he worked the night shift at the petrol station, mopped up in Fitton's Tesco, and took and failed his PPL and CPL until he finally, _finally_ passed them. During that time, his father died and left him the van. 

When he came down to Wokingham for the funeral, he saw Jessica and her mother from a distance at the service. He didn't go over to speak to them. Simon and Caitlyn brought their wives and husbands and children to the funeral. They made sure Martin's mum was comforted and cossetted. Martin left as soon as he could. 

All of this flashes through Martin's mind as he stands at the flight deck door to greet the clients – a software millionaire and his wife and three children, chartering a flight to Spain for a holiday. Because the woman is Jessica. 

And she's even more beautiful than Martin remembers. She looks happy, too – the look that Martin remembers from when they first began to date: young, carefree, and just… _happy_.

Jessica looks right through him, and he wonders if she even recognizes him in his pilot's uniform. 

"Welcome aboard MJN Air," he says. Beside him, he can almost feel Douglas gawp as Martin doesn't stutter or blush. 

"Martin?" Jessica asks, doing a double-take.

"Hello, Jessica," he says with a smile. "You're looking well."

"Thank you, I… So are you. You're a pilot now. How wonderful!"

"Thank you, and you're married? I mean, obviously… and he's… obviously you're… h-happy?" 

"Yes, Martin. I am."

Jessica smiles at him and Martin knows he's smiling back.

"I'm glad," he says. "You… deserve it."

"Are you?" she asks. "Happy, I mean."

It takes Martin a moment and then he realizes: it doesn't matter that he's not married to her. That those children aren't his. That he's not married at all, or that he doesn't even have a girlfriend. That it took so many goes to get his CPL. That he's living still in that horrible attic in the shared house in Parkside Terrace. That he's not actually paid to fly. That his _job_ is humping boxes into his dad's old van. None of that matters.

Because he is, in his own way, happy. 

Because almost every day of his life, he gets to fly. 

"Yes," he says. "I am."

As GERTI shudders and takes flight, Martin can't help but laugh delightedly. 

"Martin?" Douglas asks him. "Are you all right?"

"It doesn't matter, Douglas – Arthur was right. You're never blissfully happy with your love in the moonlight and when you are… well, it's never really blissfully happy, is it?"

Douglas rolls his eyes.

"Are you, perchance, trying to reconcile yourself to the loss of an old flame?" he asks. "Only it wasn't difficult to notice you and our client's wife seemed to know each other rather well. Or used to. Did I catch a whiff of unrequited love there?"

Martin knows he's blushing. 

"We did know each other, yes," he says. "A long time ago. And no, I wouldn't say it was entirely _unrequited_."

Douglas makes a sort of cooing sound and Martin's blush deepens. 

"And anyway," Martin says. "It's none of your business."

"Of course not."

"No. Not at all."

"Sir is entitled to one's privacy."

"Right. Yes. Well then. Good."

There is a pause.

"Collective nouns," Douglas finally says.

"What?"

"Collective nouns. A murder of crows. A pride of lions."

"Oh, oh I see. A tangle of headset cables."

"Not bad," Douglas concedes. "A misplacement of socks."

"A bark of Carolyns," Martin counters.

"A brilliance of Arthurs."

"Well, that's assuming that our Arthur isn't…" Martin objects.

"Oh, quite," Douglas agrees. "Very well, then – a subcategory – a brilliance or a clot of Arthurs."

As if on cue, the flight deck door opens. 

"Coffee, chaps?" Arthur chirrups. 

It is, Martin thinks, just another day at MJN Air. 

And he wouldn't trade it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine, no money. Bluestocking79 and AnnieTalbot are marvelous betae.


End file.
